Sandy Pritchard-Gordon

Sandy Pritchard-Gordon
Theatre Blog

Wednesday 23 May 2018

Absolute Hell at The Lyttleton








Whilst this play, Absolute Hell, currently playing at The Lyttleton can’t in any way be described as such, it isn’t exactly an absolute joy either.  A strangely constructed drama by Rodney Ackland and originally entitled The Pink Room, Absolute Hell is set in a Soho Club during the final days of World War Two.  With a cast of nearly forty, it has no real plot.  Instead the twenty main characters drink, flirt, scheme and debate everything from national politics to religion and most subjects in-between. 

For the most part their outlook is bleak, none more so than the chatelaine of the club, Christine Foskett (Kate Fleetwood). She tries subduing her disillusionment with life by imbibing large amounts of alcohol and flirting outrageously with the customers, especially the American Serviceman, Butch (Aaron Heffernan). The other central character is Hugh Marriner (the always superb Charles Edwards).  He plays a struggling gay writer and elements of his life reflect the playwright’s personal experience.

One can see why the original version of the play was damned, inhabited as it is by homosexuals, bisexuals and promiscuity.  Not the done thing in 1950’s Britain. All these topics are de rigeur in 2018 of course, but the play is still a difficult one to digest.
Absolute Hell does have its moments, especially when the humour shines through but designer Lizzie Clachan’s set and Jon Clark’s clever lighting take most of the honours. Her stage design brilliantly conjures up a dingy and rather seedy 1940’s drinking club and it’s a great pity that the play doesn’t sustain the initial excitement on first viewing the life about to enfold on stage.

Unfortunately, despite her efforts, Director Joe Hill-Gibbon’s clever inclusion of having the cast periodically sing in unison and excellent performances from the main characters, Absolute Hell doesn’t really work for me. A rolling series of disjointed sketches by assorted characters isn’t a great outline for a great play.


Wednesday 2 May 2018

Mood Music at The Old Vic



The Old Vic has done it again and come up with yet another top-notch production.  Mood Music, a cracking new play by Joe Penhall opened on the 21st April and it is excellent.  I originally booked to see it as Rhys Ifans, a great favourite of mine, was due to take the role of Bernard.  Unfortunately, he had to pull out, but no worries, because the excellent Ben Chaplin has taken over.  He, like the entire cast are without criticism as is the staging, direction and script.

Hildegard Bechtler’s set just comprises a ceiling of hanging microphones and a bare stage apart from set of drums, electric piano, two guitars and a few chairs.  But that’s enough to transport us to a room devoted to recording music.  Joe Penhall has written a play for our #MeToo times, except that he penned it before the Weinstein/Spacey et al furore broke.  It’s obvious from Mood Music that the recording industry isn’t exempt from ego and narcissism and the content of the play is authenticated by the playwright witnessing musical machinations whilst writing his award-winning musical “Sunny Afternoon”.

Ben Chaplin's Bernard is a successful, middle-aged, twice-divorced pop music producer/song writer who has decided he wants to work with a naïve young Irish singer-songwriter, Cat, played with aplomb by newcomer Seana Kerslake.  Both characters are flawed thanks to their backgrounds and the play takes us on a bumpy ride through their artistic differences and ultimate caustic fall out.  The ride explores the creative process when it comes to writing and recording an album, excessive egos and narcissism.  And how an experienced older man can creatively abuse and control a fragile young girl.  The psychotherapists and lawyers become involved when Penhall explores who owns what and who controls whom when something is being produced that cannot be owned or controlled.  Ultimately, as one of the character says, “musicians don’t really ever like one another.  They just like the music.  When they’re actually playing, everything’s fine.  The rest of the time it’s like Stockholm syndrome”.  We kind of know this from the various legendary  Rock ‘n Roll spats.

The format of the play is quite complex in that Bernard and Cat’s dialogue with each other, whilst trying to make music together, is interspersed with overlapping dialogue they both have with their lawyers and respective therapists.  But this is expertly handled by Director Roger Michell, who has brought the whole piece smoothly together like a beautifully choreographed dance.   Not only that but no-one is ever in any doubt that the two main characters are musically adept.  This is easy when it comes to Seana Kerslake as she has an excellent singing voice and plays the guitars to the manor born.  Chaplin, on the other hand, was apparently unsure he had any musical ability at all.  Really?

The entire cast are exemplary.  My oh my how Chaplin can channel his inner bastard while still retaining a sexy charm.  There are times when his delivery hits the button so effectively that the audience takes an involuntary intake of breath.  And what a find in Seana Kerslake.  She is so adept at highlighting her vulnerability and her sadness when talking about her late musician father is touching in the extreme. And, as mentioned before, she can sing and play the guitar. The always watchable Neil Stuke as Seymour, Bernard’s laid back, scruffy lawyer turns spin into an art form, whilst Kurt Egyiawan plays Miles, Cat’s typical, be-suited lawyer with a conscientious intenseness

Pip Carter and Jemma Redgrave are the two eminently believable therapists Ramsay and Vanessa, who try their best to engage with their clients.  So believable is Redgrave as the beleaguered Vanessa that it’s difficult not to sympathise when Cat yells at her that she’s made everything worse.

Music is known to affect emotion and Mood Music certainly lifted my spirits.  I didn’t want it to end. Beg, borrow or steal a ticket.

The Way of the World at The Donmar



As with all Restoration Comedies, Congreve’s The Way of the World isn’t a quick fix, running as it does for over 3 hours.  During the first half, we’re mainly acquainting ourselves with the many and varied characters and trying to understand the convoluted plotlines.  So, from that point of view, the running time is necessary.  What would help is if the whole production was, how can I put it, a little funnier.  Everything eventually becomes clear, but at times the getting there is slightly ponderous and not as amusing as it could be.

Various plots and sub-plots abound in the play and I will try and condense the main plot thus.  Mirabell and Millament are two lovers. In order for them to marry and receive Millamant's full dowry, Mirabell must receive the blessing of Millamant's aunt, Lady Wishfort. Unfortunately, Lady Wishfort is very bitter, despises Mirabell and wants her own nephew, Sir Wilfull, to wed Millamant.  Meanwhile Fainall is having a secret affair with Mrs. Marwood, a friend of Mrs. Fainall's, who in turn once had an affair with Mirabell ….. phew!

James Macdonald’s production of Congreve’s final play written in 1700 is less foppish and frilly than many.  Instead he allows the playwright’s characterisations to carry the play forward.  As a consequence, we the audience have to work hard to fathom the hidden agendas and wheeler dealings of each character.  Luckily the cast are expert in throwing out clues.  With his narrowed eyes scrutinising his opponent, Mirabell, the vulpine Tom Mison, reveals Fainall’s ruthlessness from the start.  While, in complete contrast, Geoffrey Streatfield illuminates Mirabell’s generosity with a very restrained performance.  Actually it’s a little too restrained and, as a result, tends to lack spontaneity. 

It takes the unguarded appearances of Witwoud, Mirabell and Lady Wishfort to inject some much-needed verve.  Fisayo Akinade has the foppishness of the superficial Witwoud down to a fine art and he and his side-kick Petulant (Simon Manyonda) bicker and spar with great aplomb.  Justine Mitchell, so brilliant in the recent National Theatre production of Beginning, is equally good here playing the irreverent Millament, although the slight criticism is that her interpretation is rather too modern.  But the fact that she brings great humour to the part is in no doubt.

The peach of a part in this comedy that pokes fun at a society where relationships are determined by monetary gain rather than romantic love, is that of Lady Wishfort, played here by Haydn Gwynne.  Dressed like an entire rose garden, Gwynne treats us to physical humour par excellence when she tries out various postures on and ultimately “off” her chaise longue. Despite examining her face in the mirror and exclaiming that “I look like an old peeled wall”, she feels the need to select the correct position in which to greet a (phoney) admirer. If only she were a little less screechy.

There is a stylish design by Anna Fleischle who uses simple gauzes to transfer the tiny Donmar stage into by turns a chocolate house, London park and Lady Wishfort’s home.  In fact the whole production is stylish and amusing, with good performances all round.  It just lacks a little “joie de vivre”.